


Blue Moon

by akapolarbear



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Mild Gore, mild religious themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akapolarbear/pseuds/akapolarbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is Strange Dark High Fantasy RPG AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Max was thirteen when she left Arcadia. It was a small town that only ever got any attention when visitors came via boat. The land trade routes were few and far between and traveling warriors who came to stop for rest were almost nonexistent. The town’s only real defenses against demons or beasts were the Crusaders from the church, but Arcadia was nowhere near close to a village of warriors. Her parents had been saving up their money to leave for the city, somewhere better defended to raise their child for years, and the moment they did, they packed up everything they had and left.

Max didn’t end up returning to Arcadia until five years later. As it turned out, she had ‘a gift’ in the way of magicks, a natural affinity for the manipulation of time that didn’t end up blooming until late in her teenage years. Said gift left her eligible for application to the Crusaders. By that point, she was an adult in the eyes of all laws and free to do as she pleased, so she left her parents and the safety of the city to return to her childhood home.

However, while everyone assumed she was returning to Arcadia to become a holy warrior, Max had no real interest in fighting demons. Of course it was a worthy cause, but she had never considered herself a fighter, her gift be damned. She was returning for an old friend.

She was returning for Chloe.

When they were children, Max and Chloe had been thick as thieves, closer than family and practically joined at the hip. They had always promised each other forever, but Chloe’s family was poor. They had no money to save to leave Arcadia, and Max was forced to leave her behind. It had hurt like Hell having to leave her best friend for life, which is why Max’s first real adult decision was to go back for her.

But after weeks of traveling just to get back to Arcadia, Max arrived only to find that Chloe was gone. She had run away from Arcadia four years ago with no clue left behind of where she was running to. Ever since, Chloe Price had become just another Arcadian mystery never to be solved. Most townsfolk, when questioned about her disappearance, had almost unanimously agreed that Arcadia was never going to see Chloe again, and most decided that, on her own, she had probably been killed by a demon years ago.

At first, Max had been heartbroken, confused and lost. Her entire plan had been to come back to Arcadia solely to find and catch up with Chloe, and then they could start over, like Max had never left, but with Chloe missing, what was Max supposed to do? She reached the conclusion that she would just have to go find her old friend herself, because she refused to let Chloe fade away like a forgotten memory.

And, if it turned out that Chloe really was _gone_ – she had a hard time trying to associate her best friend with the word ‘dead’ – then Max figured that she at least had the right to find proof first before writing off Chloe like so many others already had.

Max spent the next months traveling, typically via escorted caravan; while she had the capability to protect herself, she would much rather be safe than sorry. She would go from town to town and occasionally to city to ask adventurers or bartenders if the name Chloe Price meant anything to them; she wished she had something more than a name to go off of, but having not seen Chloe in five years, Max knew that any physical description she could offer would be outdated. Rarely did she receive any positive information, and the leads that she did get always turned out to be dead ends and red herrings. As the weeks rolled by, Max’s hope was dwindling, but she had made a promise, to herself and to Chloe – she was going to come back for her.

Four months after her search began, Max found herself walking the forest path to her next destination on her search. She hadn’t had the money to pay for the caravan this time around, and her decision had either been to do odd jobs around town until she had saved enough gold, or take the risk traveling by herself on foot. In the end, she decided that she didn’t have the time to waste working for money; while she was doing menial labor, what kind of trouble could Chloe be off getting into?

That train of thought was all it took to set her out on the road.

Max had hoped to make it through the forest by nightfall, but the sun was already starting to set before she was halfway there. She swore to herself for not leaving town sooner and considered using some of her time manipulation to slow time down just to allow herself some more daylight, at least enough for her to make it to the forest’s edge. In the end, she decided against it; she didn’t even think she had the ability to slow down time that much and even if she did, there was no telling how much energy it would take out of her. Instead, she was made to choose between losing time and setting up camp, or to power through the night, which was a terrible sounding idea all on its own.

She ended up deciding that she had already taken enough chances for one day and admittedly, she _was_ tired.

That night, when she was sitting alone by the fire, Max tried very hard to assure herself that she would be fine. Monsters very rarely tread near the manmade roads, and she made sure to set up within range of the path. Demons and unholy beasts, on the other hand, were a different story, but they avoided fire like it was God’s wrath and while Max couldn’t claim to be the best survivalist, she could at least pride herself on being good enough at making a fire that it would last until sunrise.

It was when she heard the howling of wolves that Max began feeling uneasy. _Relax_ , she told herself, sounding more confident than she was, _with any luck, they’ll brush right past camp and ignore you_. When the howls turned into frenzied barks, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Wolves never made this much commotion when everything was normal; those were the sounds of animals that were terrified.

Max’s mind went into autopilot, because thinking too hard would just make the situation even scarier than it already was. To calm herself, she started going through all the self defense mechanisms she knew: her dagger was within reach, she started preparing her magic ahead of time for a quick cast, the path was due north of her headed east–

All of her thought processes were cut to a screeching halt when a dire wolf came peeling out from the trees only to skid to a stop right in front of her fire, slumped over, dead with what appeared to be some kind of arrow sticking out of its neck. Max had fallen back onto her elbows, unable to scream as her vocal cords betrayed her. Her magic preparation had been disrupted, so instead she fumbled for her dagger, making an attempt to force legs to cooperate. _Damn it, Max, move!_

“Aw, it’s about damn time! I’ve been trying to catch a decent meal all ni–”

The newcomer cut herself short as she stumbled into Max’s small campsite, most likely not expecting to find anyone else in this forest, but then again, neither had Max. The stranger made noise that sounded like she had choked on air as they locked eyes, and a silence settled between them. Max figured this was the best time to assess her for a threat and if she was, what the best course of action was.

 _A lot of layers, so she could be hiding weapons._ The hunter’s clothes were primarily leather and cloth, nothing Max couldn’t cut through if need be, although she was genuinely curious about the hood and scarf that covered most of her visitor’s face; the fact that she seemed like she was trying to hide something made Max uneasy. _She’s also taller than you, leaving you at a physical disadvantage._ Height seemed to be the only thing the hunter had over Max; she looked thin and lithe, rather than built. _And she did kind of just kill that dire wolf with one shot_. As it turned out, it wasn’t an arrow; it was a crossbow bolt. Max assumed the crossbow was her weapon of choice, judging by the fact it was the only weapon Max could see on her person and by how proficient she seemed with it.

 _Overall assumption is that you’re way outclassed._ Max thought bitterly, hardening her gaze so the hunter couldn’t see the insecurity in her eyes and use it as reason to attack. _Best course of action is to stall her at close range just long enough for you to get spell off so you can run…_

However, the hunter didn’t seem interested in a fight. In fact, she hadn’t made a move since she first walked into Max’s camp. Instead, all she seemed to want to do was stare in bewilderment and confusion, and it was starting to make Max uncomfortable. She was about to break the silence and ask what the problem was, but the hunter spoke first: a shaky exhale, followed by a quiet, “Max…?”

Whatever words Max had planned on saying at that point died on her tongue as her brow furrowed. She was almost positive she didn’t know this hunter, whoever she was. Max didn’t recognize the outfit or style of dress from her travels and she was sure she had never met a crossbowman before. _Unless…_ Max’s eyes widened and a tentative flare of hope surged inside her heart. “…Chloe?”

The hunter didn’t respond right away, apparently still too stunned. As soon as she came to her senses, her hand flew up to her face and she pulled her scarf down, shaking off her hood at the same time. “…Holy hell, it _is_ you!”

And at that point, Max’s brief moment of elation came crashing down around her, being replaced with cold, unsettling shock, because the Chloe that stood before her was not the Chloe that Max remembered. Long, dirty blond hair that she had gotten from her mother was now short and choppy, a shade of blue that seemed to glow in the moonlight. When Chloe spoke, there were now fangs where there should have been normal teeth. Her eyes, now that Max was looking closer, were no longer the human hue that Max left behind, but a strange ethereal mix of sky and silver. Max slowly reached a shaking hand out towards her, part of her wondering if this was a dream, part of her hoping that it was. “…Chloe…y-you…”

Within moments, Chloe’s face changed from one of disbelief to that of apprehension. She visibly tensed and her eyes flicked to the side, looking like an animal cornered by predators that was looking for a way out. “… _Fuck_.” Max only had a second to realize what she was planning and the brunette lunged forward, catching Chloe’s wrist before she could make a run for it. She swore again, this time louder and more forceful.

“Chloe…” Max’s voice shook, but the fact that she was able to speak at all was good enough for her. “I…I don’t believe this…you…you’re–”

Chloe cut her short with a growl between clenched teeth, baring her new ivory daggers threateningly. “A _werewolf?_ Yeah, _thanks_ , Max. I hadn’t noticed.” Her shoulders were squared and Max could feel the way her muscles tightened, like she wanted nothing more than to run and never look back. Judging from how long she had been missing, Max assumed it wouldn’t be the first time.

But Max had waited this long to find her and spent so much time searching that she wasn’t just about to let Chloe walk away. So she said the first thing that came to mind. “No. You’re _alive_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ending might seem a little abrupt, but I do have at least one more chapter of this planned, for Chloe's side of the situation. Past that, if anyone wants to see more of this, I would be happy to write more of this so long as there's people interested.


	2. Chapter 2

When Chloe was fourteen, she lost two of the most important people in her life. The first had been Max Caulfield, her best friend for so long that she couldn’t remember a time when they had been apart. They had always talked about how they were going to run off together once they were old enough and have all kinds of grown up adventures. Max wanted to travel and see the world beyond what Arcadia had to offer; Chloe wanted to be a warrior like her father. The agreement had been that Max could take them wherever she wanted to go, and Chloe would be her faithful knight in shining armor and bodyguard.

But in the end, Max’s parents had different plans and she left Arcadia, leaving her knight in shining armor behind with the broken promise of forever.

The second had been her father and her biggest inspiration in life. He was a Crusader, one of the warriors protecting the town, and Chloe had never wanted anything more than to grow up to be like him. He had always been encouraging of her spirit and drive, making the loss all that harder. He had been killed in battle while defending Arcadia against a demon onslaught, and during his memorial service, the church quoted him as a hero.

The town grieved the loss before moving on with their lives all too quickly. Chloe, on the other hand, chose to stay angry. She cut herself off from everyone, including her mother, and coped with her loss through rage. Everyone assumed it was just a phase and that the best course of action was to let her stew in her misery for a while. After all, time heals all wounds and it was only a matter a time before she began opening up again.

A few short months later, when Chloe was just shy of fifteen, she ran away in the middle of the night. She packed up as much as she could while still traveling light, cut her hair close to the neck, and stole half of her mother’s savings before leaving Arcadia forever. People had expected Chloe to move on, but that wasn’t good enough for her. She didn’t want to mourn; she wanted closure.

Chloe wanted revenge.

If the church wanted to rid the mortal world of demons, why hadn’t it been done yet? The war against Hell had been raging for centuries with no progress ever being made; if anything, the world had just gotten worse. So Chloe decided she was going to start looking for her own answers, without the church or the Crusaders’ help. There had to be some way out of this war and she was going to find it.

And if Chloe had to launch a one man assault against Hell itself, then God be damned, she would.

Over a year later, when Chloe was sixteen, she met Frank. Rather, the more accurate thing would be to say she found Frank after asking enough questions in shady back alleys. He had himself a shoddy hermit’s camp set up just outside some badlands which served as their meeting grounds.

“…You’ve gotta be joking, kid.” He had originally laughed her demand before waving her off and taking a swig from his flask. “Get outta here.”

Her response was to snarl back at him, “I’m not a fucking kid and I know what I asked for.”

Chloe wasn’t stupid; she knew that anger and drive for revenge alone weren’t enough to take down a demonic army and at the end of the day she was only human. She knew what she needed above all else were strength and power. She also knew that Frank had exactly what she was looking for.

For a moment, he regarded her with no shift in his emotion. He glanced at her up and down, his eyes unreadable, and then he chuckled and shook his head. Chloe was about to make her demand a second time before Frank looked back to her, grinning with his head cocked to the side, making the brand on his neck all too visible. “You’ve got nerve; I’ll give you that.” He paused to pull a blade from his pocket and run his fingers along the edge. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want. But it ain’t gonna be free.”

Chloe tensed. “What do you want?”

“Three thousand.” He replied without missing a beat, still preoccupied with playing with his knife, and Chloe hissed as she sucked in air. “My blood don’t come cheap.”

She would’ve been lying if she said she hadn’t seen this coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. “…I don’t have any money.” She told him through clenched teeth and a tight jaw, and she wasn’t lying. All she had on her were some sparse supplies for survival, her crossbow which she had already had to steal a fortune to afford, and the clothes on her back. If she dug through her bag a little, she might have been able to find some chump change, but there was no way she was going to be able to produce three thousand gold pieces on the spot.

The news didn’t seem to upset him much, as he just shrugged. “No money, no blood. Simple as that.” He finally looked up at her, his eyes a brown with gold lining that would’ve been pretty on anyone other than Frank.

“No, you don’t understand!” The words were out before she could even think about stopping herself, and by that point, Chloe figured she might as well go all the way now that she was started. “I fucking _need_ this! I don’t have the money, but…” She stopped to catch her breath and then realized she had no bargaining chip; there was no _but_.

Frank waited for her to finish, looking like he was actually getting some kind of sick amusement out of breakdown. Once he was sure that she was done with her yelling, he laughed and told her, “Y’know what? I like you, kid. Remind me of myself when I was your age, too stubborn to take no for an answer and willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want, no matter how stupid.” Honestly, the thought of being anything like a scruffy hermit like Frank left a sour taste in Chloe’s mouth, but she bit her tongue and didn’t interrupt. “I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll give you what you came for, and you can consider it a loan. But until that debt’s paid off, you work for me.” He made a big show of snarling and flashing his fangs at her like he was trying to intimidate her. “So what’ll it be?”

The intelligent decision would’ve been to run away. The intelligent decision would’ve been to never try striking a deal with a werewolf in the first place. But Chloe had been making bad decisions for too long and it was too late to start playing to common sense now. “Yeah, fine, whatever you say.” Her voice was far too calm for how she felt; her shoulders were rigid and chest felt tight, because to say she wasn’t nervous would be a complete lie. It was a drastic decision and it couldn’t be taken back, but her mind was made up. “Just make me a werewolf.”

Chloe’s memory of the actual transformation ritual was fuzzy at best. She could remember the preparation process just fine: Frank told her roll up her sleeve while he got his knife ready, he heated the blade over his camp’s fire, and then he cut himself on his fingertips, smearing the blood along blade’s edge.

Past that point, all Chloe could really remember was how much it fucking _hurt_ , having the knife raked along her skin, running down the length of her arm, from shoulder to wrist. It was worse than just a normal cut; the magic behind the ritual felt like it was searing her flesh and tearing apart the muscle underneath before spreading like a brushfire through her veins to the rest of her body. She couldn’t remember screaming, but she was sure that she did, just like she was sure that she blacked out somewhere along the line, because she remembered waking up once the ritual was over.

When she finally had come to, Chloe had been groggy and lightheaded, but while her arm still hurt, it no longer felt like it was getting torn apart by a rabid animal, so she supposed that was a plus. Then she made the mistake of actually looking at it: the skin was coated in blood, some of it still red and sticky, some of it already dried and turning brown. The skin that wasn’t bloodied and covered was scorched black in a brand that she couldn’t completely make out due to just how much red stained her arm. The sight alone was enough to make her woozy, and she mumbled breathlessly, “Holy _shit_ …”

“Relax.” Frank was busy washing the blade of his knife clean, and she noticed his hand had been bandaged. Apparently, he had decided that tending to his wounds were more important than hers were. “The magic of the ritual seals up the brand; you’re not bleeding anymore, kid. Can’t clean it up yet, though; it’s too tender and I ain’t in the mood to hear you start screaming again. Besides, the werewolf blood’s supposed to help the healing, or something.” He shrugged as he wiped his knife down, before muttering, “I dunno, I’m not a healer…point is, you’re gonna be fine.”

His dismissal of the subject didn’t exactly give her a vote of confidence, but she supposed that she didn’t really have much of a choice but to trust him. The ritual left her overall feeling like shit, so she couldn’t hope to fight him and win. It would take her a while to fully recover, and he would be watching her like a hawk while she did. As much as Chloe didn’t want to admit it, she was pretty much wholly in Frank’s hands now.

As it turned out, Frank’s idea of work was petty theft and robbery. As far as criminals went, he was small time, and the stuff he had Chloe doing was nothing she hadn’t dabbled in before, except now she had the threat of using force on her side. If a merchant’s caravan was stopped by a werewolf and they asked for all the money in the cart, the merchant was unlikely to fight back out of fear of being ripped apart. At any rate, it made the job easier.

Working with Frank wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He was gruff and uptight when it came to making sure he got his money, but he wasn’t violent or disagreeable. When it came down to it, they had a fine working relationship that fell into a routine: wake up, catch breakfast, go to work, steal some things, threaten some people, catch dinner, drag it back to camp, get drunk, pass out, rinse, repeat. But it wasn’t getting Chloe any closer to what she set out to do. There had been no point in her sacrificing her humanity if she couldn’t even use the damn power for what she had intended it for. Every day she spent with Frank was a day wasted and a day she had lost.

So when Chloe was just a few months away from seventeen, she packed up in the middle of the night before her debt was even halfway paid and ran; by this point, it was something she had gotten good at, running. Frank had gotten so wasted that night that she knew he wouldn’t wake up to find her mid-escape and it gave her enough time to put a good enough distance between them; by the time he actually woke up in the late morning, she would be long gone. She also took the liberty of taking what money he had on him, because she had to have something to show for all the lost time.

Chloe knew that when Frank came to and figured out what had happened, he was going to be out for blood. She knew he was going to come after her and hunt her down. She just tried not to care, because she had bigger and better things to worry about than a hermit werewolf like Frank.

Now Chloe was nineteen, a demon hunter in her own eyes, a bandit in anyone else’s. She only ever worked for herself and spent a fair amount of time stealing, but at least now it wasn’t her job. Most of her time was devoted to tracking down unholy abominations and chasing down rumors of how the damn things came to the mortal realm in the first place.

She didn’t exactly have a definite answer yet, but she liked to think she knew more than she did four years ago.

That particular night, she was sprawled out in the grass, trying to pick out stars from between the tree branches of the forest. She knew it was impossible because the canopy was far too dense and the only way she’d be seeing any stars would be to head in towards the path but Chloe had been traveling without any proper rest for the past three days, she was dead tired, and she needed something to keep her mind occupied before she went crazy. It happened more often than she would’ve like to admit: her head telling her to get up and go while her muscles said, _no, just give me five more minutes_.

The tiebreaker here was her stomach: there were no debates over rest and five more minutes when she was hungry. _I want food_ meant _I want food now_ , so she ignored the whiny protests of her calves when she stood up and grumbled to herself, “Food first, then sleep.”

It took Chloe a fair while to find some decent game; at first, all she could find were rabbits, squirrels, and other small animals, to which she said to no one in particular, “Yeah, no thanks, I think I’ll skip on the appetizers tonight.” However, after some searching and a little bit of tracking, she came across a pack of dire wolves lounging about for the night. Ignoring the possible implications of cannibalism – werewolves weren’t actual wolves anyway – she made her plan of action and readied the shot.

Taking on the entire pack at once was unnecessarily risky and while Chloe had made stupid risks before many times before in the past, she knew that, given her current condition of _dead tired and incredibly hungry_ , it would only end badly. Instead, her plan was to separate the group and pick one off safely from a distance. At first glance, the plan went fantastically: the wolves responded to the few potshots she fired with confused fear and then panic, before scattering. One of them fell behind and Chloe tailed it, taking the killing shot and grinning in satisfaction when she heard the thump of dead weight against the ground. “Aw, it’s about damn time!” She said to herself as she went to retrieve her kill. Hunger made her impatient. “I’ve been trying to catch a decent meal all ni–”

The words died in her throat as she stumbled upon someone’s makeshift campsite where her planned meal laid right between her and a traveler. She hadn’t been expecting to run into anyone that night, and that wasn’t even the worst of it. Her eyes remained locked onto the girl on the ground in front of her, well aware that she was staring and for good reason.

The brown hair had gotten a shade lighter and it was cut shorter than she remembered, but Chloe knew all about hairstyles changing over the years. The blue eyes were definitely the same, except older and maybe a little wiser, like she had seen some serious shit – Chloe could relate. She still had those damn freckles too, splayed across the bridge of her nose and cheeks messily, but Chloe supposed there were just some things you never grew out of.

After moments of trying to convince herself it couldn’t possibly be the same person – what were the odds, really? – Chloe finally broke the uneasy silence with the question she never thought she’d have to ask: “ _Max_ …?”

The question was at first met with blank confusion, and Chloe wanted to take that as a _no, you must be mistaken, I don’t know any Maxes, now who are you and why are you in my camp_ , which honestly would’ve been far easier to deal with and explain. However, there was a brief moment of dawning realization in the traveler’s eyes and she began to sit forward. “…Chloe?”

Chloe didn’t respond at first, mostly because she just didn’t know how. What were you supposed to say to the friend who left you years ago that you just ran into in the middle of the forest through complete happenstance? Was she supposed to be overjoyed? Enraged? Honestly, all she really felt was confused and maybe a little bit nauseous. _Suddenly, I’m not feeling so hungry anymore_ , she thought to herself with more than a little disappointment. _So much for a decent meal…_

Knowing she had to say _something_ , she settled for a simple, “Holy Hell, it _is_ you!” She shook her head, throwing her hood off and pulling down her scarf, because Max still seemed a little incredulous. Hell, not like Chloe could blame her, but she figured she should at least try showing her old friend that it really was her.

It didn’t take long for the mistake to occur to her. She took note of the way Max’s eyes changed from that of tentative hope to shocked horror. She saw the way Max gaped like she wanted to scream but couldn’t force any noise out. When Max reached out for her, her hand actually trembling, Chloe almost physically flinched. “…Chloe…y-you…”

It was a look that Chloe had seen plenty of times before, and she thought she had gotten used to it, but something about seeing it on her childhood best friend made her chest painfully tight in ways she couldn’t explain. “… _Fuck_.” It was the look of a human who realized they were staring at a monster. It was the look of terror someone adopted when they thought they were looking death in the face.

It was the look of primal fear.

Chloe panicked and made to do the one thing she was particularly good at: running away from her problems that were too tough to handle. But right before she could make a break for it and run as far away from the campsite as she could before she gave out, she felt a hand clamp around her wrist with a grip that said, _I’m not letting go_. “Fuck!” In theory, she could’ve still run. She was stronger than Max; she could’ve easily stunned her and broken away with little effort, but…even if Max did think she was a monster, that didn’t mean she had to act like it. She didn’t want to hurt Max.

“Chloe…” She could hear Max say, and Chloe’s eyes squeezed shut at the tremble in her voice. “I…I don’t believe this…you…you’re–”

“A _werewolf_?” Chloe finished for her with a snarl, her jaw set and tight. On one hand, while it hurt to see Max give the look she had only ever seen on people she was actually trying to intimidate, she figured it could work in her favor. Maybe if Max thought she actually had something to be scared of, she would be stunned just long enough for Chloe to make her escape without actually hurting Max. Not physically, at the very least. So she showed off her fangs and lowered her pitch to something more sinister and monster-like, growling angrily, “Yeah, _thanks_ , Max. I hadn’t noticed.”

But if anything, Max’s hold on her wrist only tightened, and her voice, now sounding stronger and more certain, said, “No. You’re _alive_.”

At first, it took a while to process what had been said. Chloe was more shocked at the change in Max’s resolve; she had suddenly taken a complete turn from frightened to…Chloe wasn’t sure what to describe Max’s new tone as, but it sure wasn’t _frightened_. She ended up blurting out the first thing that came to mind, which turned out being a very unintelligent sounding, “…What?”

Chloe managed to find the strength within her to actually look Max in the eye, and what she saw was a wide range of emotions – everything from sorrow to frustration to hope – but no fear. “Chloe, do you know how long I’ve been _looking_ for you?!” It was kind of funny; Chloe couldn’t remember the last time she had felt guilty for just about anything, but just hearing how upset Max was from her tone was enough for Chloe to feel like she should’ve apologized. For what, she wasn’t quite sure yet. “I went back to Arcadia for you, and weren’t there! Everyone said you were dead! Do you _know_ …” Max’s voice shook and she had to pause for a breath to calm herself, “how scared I was?”

So that’s what Chloe was supposed to feel sorry for. “Oh.” She sure was on the ball with her witty replies that night. She heaved a sigh, not quite sure how to answer. Her head was reeling with how fast this was all happening; all she wanted was some food and all of the sudden, her best friend who she hadn’t seen in years was in her face, yelling about how she fucked up for running away. “I, uh…” Chloe coughed awkwardly, unaware of the proper way to proceed, “I guess you want an explanation then.”

“No shit.” Max breathed, apparently tired of yelling and instead using some kind of exhausted sadness tone that made Chloe feel even worse than the shouting had. Chloe plopped down on the ground, her weariness from before making itself known again, and she patted the ground next to her as a signal for Max to take a seat. The shorter girl took the unspoken invitation and lowered herself slowly, as if any sudden movements would ruin the moment. Her blue eyes stared at Chloe expectantly, waiting for her to start.

So she started from the beginning. She told Max about how her father died and what it did to her. She told her about her plans and goals and just what she hoped to achieve from running away. She made brief mention of her criminal exploits while still human, and when the werewolf issue came up, she was as vague as possible, skipping out on a few details and leaving out the part about Frank hunting her down to kill her. There were some things Max didn’t _need_ to know.

Through it all, Max didn’t offer many interjections, only occasionally ushering her to continue the story during a pause. At the end of Chloe’s story, Max seemed far off, like she was trying to take it all in, not that she blamed her – the past four years of her life had been a wild ride. Then, when she was ready, Max spoke. “So…you’re telling me you’re trying to end the war against Hell? By _yourself_?” When Chloe didn’t correct her, Max slowly shook her head. “You’re _crazy_.”

“Yeah.” Chloe replied with a humorless laugh, staring into Max’s campfire blankly. “I’m fucking insane.” She never really talked about her end goal, because whenever it got put into words, it just seemed stupid and childish. But when she stayed focused on the actions that led to the goal, it felt more real, like she had a plan and she wasn’t just stumbling towards a fool’s dream.

Max, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find the joke funny. “No, _seriously_ , Chloe. What are you going to do, charge in and overthrow the king of Hell all by yourself?” She didn’t even bother to let Chloe answer the rhetorical question, shaking her head furiously. “Just come back to Arcadia with me; we can–”

“ _No_.” It was Chloe’s turn to shake her head. The thought of just _going back_ to Arcadia made her sick to her stomach and she shot Max a dark look from the corner of her eye. “No fucking way.”

Max stopped and hesitated with whatever it was she was planning to say, her eyes now widened slightly in what could’ve either fear or shock – possibly both. Chloe should’ve felt bad for lashing out at her like that, but she was too irritated to care. “Chloe–”

She once again cut Max off, not bothering to let her even get an idea out. “ _No_ , Max, you don’t _get_ it!” Chloe was now yelling and she could feel the way the brand that ran down the length of her right arm started to heat up. She sucked in a breath with a hiss and clenched her fist, biting the tip of her tongue and mentally cursing. _No, shit – fuck! Not now!_ Typically, Chloe didn’t try to control her fits, because when she got angry, she usually had a good reason for it. But _now_ , in front of _Max_ – she was angry, sure, but she didn’t want the younger girl to get hurt. That would’ve been one hell of a reunion gift: _hey, it’s been years since we’ve last seen each other, now I’m gonna end up ripping your arms off!_

She had been so distracted with trying to stop herself from having an episode that she didn’t notice when Max’s arm slipped over her shoulders and came down reassuringly on her arm. Chloe damn near jumped back, not anticipating contact because most people’s common sense said to back away from the angry werewolf, not _hug_ it. She met Max’s gaze, an unspoken question settled between them: _What are you doing?_

Max’s hand gently massaged Chloe’s bicep in some attempt to make peace. Chloe had to admit, it wasn’t exactly unwanted contact and it actually felt kind of nice to not be alone during a fit of rage for once. “Chloe…” Max started carefully, her tone soft like she was talking to a frightened animal that she didn’t want to scare off, “talk to me.” Her emotion reflected her unspoken answer: _I’m trying to help_.

Chloe stayed quiet for a long few moments that stretched on like hours. Max wanted her to talk, and that was fine, but what was she supposed to say? Finally, she started by just saying what came to mind: “…I _can’t_ go back. I’ve given up too much and come too far to just give up and go back home now. When I left Arcadia, I knew I wasn’t going back. I made that decision.” She wanted to keep going but she lost her steam and instead sighed deeply, shaking her head and finishing, “I’m not going back, Max. I’m sorry.”

For a while, neither of them moved. Neither of them said anything. Chloe figured that it was about time that she made her leave, but she wasn’t quite ready to go yet. She kept telling herself, _Just a few more minutes_. It was funny; she had gotten so good at running away on a whim, but now when she had to, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.

“I’m coming with you.”

Max had said it with such finality that Chloe had to stop and wonder if she had invited Max in the first place. When she had confirmed with her memory that no, she, in fact, had not, she gave Max a look like the younger girl had just made a terrible pun. “…You’re crazy.” Chloe deadpanned.

“I guess that makes me insane just like you then, huh?” Max replied without missing a beat. Chloe tried to think of some kind of rebuttal, but she realized that Max had a point. Any excuse that she could make to convince Max not to follow her would’ve been met with, _You do it, why can’t I?_

Chloe studied Max’s face, looking for some hint of insecurity that she could use as a last ditch effort to convince Max otherwise. She wasn’t going to lie, having Max with her actually sounded like a really good deal. She would have someone to watch her back and make sure she didn’t die, and she would have her best friend back. “…It’s gonna be dangerous, traveling with me, Caulfield. You sure you’re up for it?”

Max shrugged and offered a smile. “If I have my knight in shining armor with me, what’s there to worry about?”

Chloe laughed, grinning. “I think you’ll find I’m not much of a knight in shining armor anymore. I’m more of a…lovable rogue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, this got a lot longer than it was supposed to be. Whoopsie. Alright, well, there are the chapters I had planned, but if anyone wants more, I can gladly continue with more about Max and Chloe traveling together and maybe this could develop into a full fleshed out story if people want it.


End file.
